


American Dream

by totesIronic



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Humor, Characters and ratings will be updated, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting Back Together, Heavily inspired by bojack horseman, Humor, M/M, Slow Burn, Time Skips, Tragedy/Comedy, Unrequited Love, florida man dream, lovers to enemies to friends to lovers, not like a boring time skip thing please read my fanfic, references to music but not like a songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28670772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totesIronic/pseuds/totesIronic
Summary: 10 years ago, Dream fell from social grace. But now he’s back, and ready for all sorts of adventure. Follow Dream as he gets his life together, ends up involved in a pyramid scheme, writes a romance novel. and wins back his ex-boyfriend, all while balancing his alcohol addiction and “mild” narcissistic tendencies
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	American Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! :D

After a couple minutes of sputtering and coughing, Dream’s desktop computer finally spurs to life and begins to play the queued video. “In this video, 3 of my friends try to hunt me down and stop me from beating Minecraft. If they kill me one time, I lose. If I beat the Ender Dragon, I win. We did this once, and I lost. This is the rematch. Minecraft Manhunt. Also, according to YouTube statistics, only a small percentage of people that watch my videos-” He really did miss those times, shown obviously by the littered assortment of merchandise at the base of his swivel chair. 

It was hard to believe it had been almost 10 years since his YouTube career had gone to shit, following a rapid bout of countrovery and personal tragedy. At the time, it had seemed a wise decision to take a break, and of course only one that he would easily recover from. Dream sighed, and began to quietly swirl the dollar-store quality vodka at the bottom of his sticky souvenir mug before taking a swig. His breath hitched in his throat like the protagonist of a shitty teen novel, but instead of over young love, it was over cheap booze that tasted more like a cleaning product than anything else. He groaned miserably and leaned over to look at the window.

The dull light of sunrise glimpsed through his slit curtains in a way that could only be described as revoltingly optimistic, at least to Dream. In his youth the computer setup had seemed glamorous and flashy, as he was partial to conspicuous consumption no matter how much he would deny it. Yet now, it just seemed like a tacky shell of a thing, but he couldn’t be bothered to get rid of it. Dream wasn’t a hoarder, no, it’s just something in his subconscious tied the computer to his old life. He was smart, of course, so he knew his fetishistic nostalgia of his streaming days was absurd, but he had resigned himself to it and there was no way out.

Dream’s daily ritual of a masturbatory round of self-pity and hatred was put to an abrupt close with a disgruntled Sapnap kicking the door open. “Dude, can I eat the ice cream cake in the freezer? We’re out of pancake mix and I need breakfast.”

Leaning over in his gaming chair, Dream sighs. “It’s literally two in the afternoon. Burger King stopped serving breakfast almost five hours ago. If your life is in tatters to the point where fucking Burger King has a better schedule than you, it’s time to re-evaluate.”

Sapnap’s gaze turns critical as he lays his eyes on the mug in Dream’s hands, and then a smirk slowly replaces his frown. “At least I’m not drinking before, um, well, at least I’m not drinking before the Olive Garden happy hours,” he quips, obviously satisfied with his fast-food chain related insult.

Not to be one-upped, Dream goes to reply, but is cut off when his phone chimes with an all-too-familiar ringtone. The air grows still and humid as both begin to panic. Hesitantly he reaches for his phone, as Sapnap stands in the doorway, like a deer in headlights, or any other sort of creature in a stunned panic. With a nervous twitch of the hand, Dream answers the call, choosing to open with false confidence, “Hey Georgie, you haven’t called in a while, what’s with that? Did you miss me?”

He can feel the disgust through the phone. George says, “No, Dream, I do not want to get back together. The purpose of this call was to inform you that I will be in town for the next few months. God knows why my services as a software engineer were needed in the middle of Florida but-“

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold the fuck up. You, Mr. Bigshot tech guy, are coming to Florida? And not only Florida, my town? Who even needs your help?” Dream interrupted, confused and mildly hurt by the fact that George was coming back, just not to him. He followed up with, “Who are you coming back to, if not me?”

George groaned, answering, “Remember Wilbur? He’s making an autotune software and needs my help, you narcissistic asshole. God, this is why I broke up with you. Besides, he pays well.”

“In sex? Are you having sex with him? You’re one to talk, whore,” Dream remarked, quickly losing his temper at George being so dismissive of all that they had. It wasn’t all his fault anyway, nothing was. Including the time he crashed the car off the freeway after accidentally ingesting horse tranquilizers.

Easily forgotten in the drama at hand, Sapnap finally snapped out of his trance. “God, I can’t even lighten the mood with a poorly executed sex joke because instead of getting all flustered you both just get pissed. It’s a travesty, really.”

Not one to miss out on a poorly executed sex joke, Dream butted in, “So like- what were you going to say then?” 

Quietly mumbling, Sapnap answered hesitantly, “Uh so like, oh yeah daddy, call me a whore again.” Instantly the room shook with loud, and mildly obnoxious laughter. For a second, it felt just like old times, them all laughing together over a silly joke. But alas, reality achingly ripped through the cathartic nostalgia. 

George resumed his speech, and it became clear he was tuning out their antics. “Do you remember the Smp? All the ex-members are meeting up in Miami in about a month, for the tenth anniversary. If you can get your life together long enough to come, I think we would all enjoy it.” Despite those scathing words, it was obvious he still held affection for Dream, whether it be platonic or romantic. Or there was also the possibility George just wanted to humiliate him in front of all his old friends and was being a manipulative bastard. “So, will you be there?”

“Of course. I’ll be there. Follow up with me when there’s more information,” Dream says before ending the call. He sets his phone down on the table and begins to introspect. The call went decently well, but not great, and the more he thought about it the more misery dripped into his pores like honey on a summer day; sticky, sweet, and idiotic-loooking. Walking over to his windowsill, Dream pulls up the blinds and lets in some fresh air.

In an attempt to comfort Dream, Sapnap walks over. “Hey, man, I know it’s hard talking to your ex. At least no matter what we have each other. It’s like, death, taxes, and our friendship. It’s like Titanic but I wouldn’t fuck you over because our bro code is stronger than love. It’s like-“ 

“Sapnap, I get it, you care about me. The similes were a little excessive but still very kind and thoughtful,” Dream replies. He should get some cleaning done and probably actually get something to eat. Looking in the mirror he combs back some of his “honey-blonde” hair. Dream had always thought that description was stupid. Beige would suffice. 

Looking up from his phone, Sapnap announced, “Hey, Dream,” and was signified to go on with a grunt of recognition, “There’s a new restaurant in town, seems to be a nicer lunch place. It’s called The Fragrant Kitchen. They’re still serving, want to go?” 

Dream was hungry, and the place did seem relatively nice. “Why not? Let’s go,” he answered, putting the directions in his phone with a cheer of joy from Sapnap. He walked out to his silvery car and turned on his personal music playlist, hoping for a song that would not elicit a strong emotional response from him

“Thinking back on all the things I should've said

When you were here, when you and I were friends

And now, stuck here, I just have to pretend

If you were here, you'd help me out again

But I forgot you did no wrong

Bottled up my feelings for so long”

It seems luck was not with him. Dream definitely did not project his feelings surrounding George onto that song. See, it wasn’t his fault George left. But he did bottle up his feelings and still often wished he could have said some different things. In his opinion, they were both toxic and manipulative to each other, but their mutual hatred made them thrive. He wasn’t any better than Dream.

Sapnap opened the door, clearly happy to get out of the house and eat something. “Hey Dream, I hear they have good burritos. Do you think they have good burritos? Maybe they even have muffins. Speaking of muffins, did you hear that BadBoyHalo’s shop in New York is doing really well. Are you even listening to me? Here wait I know what’ll make you listen. Hngh Daddy~ harder in my-“

“Christ, Sapnap! I’ll listen to you but I was having a moment,” Dream shouts. He really does hate lashing out at Sapnap but he thought he finally made some headway with his mental conflict over his relationship issues, and the dude was being pretty annoying. Despite being the one to start the conflict, Dream knows he was in the right here. 

Satisfied with the recognition he got from Dream, even if it was negative, Sapnap relaxes into the cheap leather seat as the car pulls out of the driveway. Dream lets the monotonous voice on his phone narrate the directions as he drives the car out of their garage. It’s time for him to put the proverbial pedal to the metal.

The GPS sounds an incoming turn alert, and Dream does as it commands. He pulls the car up to an impressively chic restaurant with lively foliage peppering the exterior. Sapnap, stating the obvious, announces, “I think this is the place. It looks rather nice, dontcha think?” Dream must admit, the place is nice. Even if the world is shitty and he has no future, at least there are aesthetically pleasing brunch places for a group of washed-up men to dine at. 

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Dream lumbers out the car door and walks inside the restaurant. It smells rather nice, which is always a good thing for a restaurant to be. Nice-smelling. He asks Sapnap, who already found a menu, “What do you want to eat? I’ll probably take a panini of some kind.” 

“I think I’ll go with the Waffle Deluxe. I haven’t gotten to eat non-frozen food in a while so I guess I’ll treat myself,” Sapnap replies. This interaction was laid back, as usual. That doesn’t mean Dream didn’t miss their old days of streaming with George. To the majority of people, he was as good as dead now, except society still gave a shit about dead people.

As to not be disturbed, Dream sets his phone to silent and begins to eat his Chef’s Choice panini. It seemed to be fresh tomato and mozzarella with hints of parmesan and prosciutto. A rather ideal sandwich, if you asked him. Sapnap seemed to be enjoying his waffle platter, which was good. He always had a sort of paternal affection for the guy, which could be for a whole set of reasons that would most likely put him in a bad mood to think about. 

Checking to see if he missed anything important, Dream gently taps his phone screen. 

Insufferable Prick: 2 Missed Calls

Insufferable Prick: Sent a Voicemail.

This would not bode well. George, like a reasonable person, would never leave a voicemail except for the most dire situations. He hesitantly clicks the notification and presses play on the small triangular icon.

“Regrettably, Wilbur has no accessible living quarters for me. So, alas, I must turn to you, my only connection in this area, at least until a nearby hotel has an opening. This proposal of shared living quarters will be strictly platonic. Call me back when you have your answer.” Oh. Fucking. Shit.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for this fandom, so if anything is irredeemably wrong I’d love to be corrected. I can’t 100% decide if I want this to be mainly romance driven or have a ton of humorous subplots, so you can also leave a comment. If you enjoyed this work, comments and kudos make my day! :)


End file.
